


Horsing Around

by Everlind, ThePioden



Series: Centaurstuck [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Centaurstuck, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, alternate universe - centaurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:25:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everlind/pseuds/Everlind, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePioden/pseuds/ThePioden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Centaurstuck verse; a collection of drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bucked Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: HOORAY REQUESTS! Anything at all about Tavros in centaurstuck would be wonderful, but I do really love slice of life or average day bits. What's life like for Tav in the village? How is school in Prospit? how does Tav fill up his time? Is it annoying having the biggest hindquarters in the village?  
> ==> Tavros Nitram POV, rated T

“Is ah, is he still watching?”

Jake slides the strap through the buckle, tightens it. “Pretending not to,” he says with a grin. “Don’t worry about it, chap, there’s no fault with a spot of good, honest work. There, you’re set to go.”

“I know,” you answer. “Just wish he wouldn’t stare.”

Jake’s moved on to Rufioh, helping him arrange the tack where he can’t reach. His sun-browned hands move steadily, almost on auto-pilot. 

“Just ignore him,” Rufioh says. “He’ll get over it someday.” A pause. “Probably,” he amends, with a wry smile and a shrug.

A snap of leather, Jake steps back to survey his work. Adjusts the harness over Rufioh’s back and nods to himself. “Quite surprised he showed up as early as he did. Whatever floats his boat, I suppose,” he gives a careless shrug, dismissing it. “Ready to get hooked up, then?”

 It’s terribly early and you’re pretty sure half your brain is still plastered to your pillow back home, but as Jake and Rufioh hook the plough into your harness, the sun comes up. The equitaur’s village isn’t as comfortably sheltered as yours, everything is wide open and surrounded by gently sloping hills. It’s gorgeous, though, light spilling across the fields and skipping over the valleys in clear golden rays. Dew glitters. A rooster crows. You breathe in deeply.

It’s hard work. It takes effort to break through the hardpan and more often than not you get stuck on rocks or caught in snarls of half-rotten roots. Jake plods on easily, familiar and comfortable with the task, but you find yourself lagging halfway through the first lap. The sight of the freshly turned earth trailing in your wake is oddly satisfying, though, so you keep at it steadily. Your muscles burn and your shirt is drenched in sweat, but your body has settled into a rhythm and you feel like you could go on forever.

You’re happy Jake didn’t only ask Rufioh to lend a hand, actually. Your brother might be taller, but you’re distinctly broader. Usually it makes you feel uncomfortable; you easily outweigh everybody. A careless toss of your head might send someone to the hospital and last week you accidentally bulldozed Kanaya into a bush with your hindquarters. Now, however you feel, well… You feel confident.

It’s a nice feeling.

It lasts all morning.

And then Vriska shows up.

“Hey losers!” she goes, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. Her antlers scythe through the air menacingly as her eyes jump between the three of you, but linger on Jake, who’s shirtless. “Nice _work_.” The way it rolls off her tongue makes you blush.

“Why thank you!” Jake goes, utterly genial as always.

Vriska wags her brows. You resist the urge to sigh and hide your face into your hands.

Not that you can blame her, really. Jake’s extremely good looking, body sculpted by years of manual labor and his coat is this burnished, gleaming chestnut you only find in equines. Next to him you feel squat and ungainly. Suddenly your horns seem enormous and you realize you’re covered in a film of dust from head to hooves. Also your sweat has worked into a white lather around the leather straps. Gross.

“Don’t get up to any trouble, doll… okay?” Rufioh tells her mildly.

Vriska tsks, crosses her arms. “Rude much? I walked all this way to see how you were doing. I didn’t have to do that, you know? There were so much more important things I had to do, I am a very busy person after all. But, noooooooo, I actually  _bother_  to come and see  _you_  and this is my thanks?”

“Uh, I’m sorry?” you hazard, pulling at your shirt to let some air at your torso. “And thanks. I guess.”

“You’re more than welcome,” Vriska responds and pulls out a camera with flourish. Takes a picture.

“H-hey!” you protest. “Oh, c’mon, Vriska. What are you going to do with that?”

“Somewhere out there is a person who will be prepared to pay cold hard cash for this  _and a lot of it_ ,” she grins. “Might not even have to look very far.”

Vriska cuts her eyes towards Equius who… who’s  _still there_. Obviously. Dabbing at his face with a towel. You wish you had a towel of your own to dry your face with. Not that one though. Eep.

“Our sweet Tavros all sweaty and laced tight into a leather horse harness like a beast of burden,” she muses. “I bet he’d like to have a poster of it, something to look at when he—“

“ _CHARGE_!”

Aradia bursts quite suddenly into view, short legs churning quickly and wooly fluff bouncing, horns level with Vriska’s hindquarters. Boink. Vriska careens sideways, stumbles over her own hind legs and sits down hard on her butt in a furrow of dark, loose soil.

“Hey Tav!” Aradia says, mouth curving into a wide and toothy grin. She waves. You wave back, hiding a smile behind your fingers.

“Dammit, Megido!” Vriska yells, eying the two skid marks of disturbed hair on her buttock.

“Here I come to save the day!” Aradia sings as she trots over.

“Mighty Mouse?” you go and dip your head so the two of you can bonk heads together. Your horns clack lightly and a tendril of Aradia’s hair sticks into the sweat at your temple. She smells of sun warmed soil and home. Aradia winks and fishes a water bottle out of the shoulder bag she’s carrying. Hands it to you. Okay, she really is your hero. You tell her so as she throws both Jake and Rufioh one, too.

“Wasn’t difficult to figure where she’d gone,” she admits. “She’s nothing if not predictable.”

“Hey!” Vriska barks -and goes ignored. 

“Would you like me to stay?” Aradia asks you.

“Ah, no, thanks. We’re almost done, it should be fine, I think.”

“Alright! Let me know when you’re back, I’ll help you get cleaned up, okay?”

“Okay,” you promise, stupidly grateful for her.

Of course, Vriska finds it necessary to go: “ _Ooooooooh,_ ” as she hitches her eyebrow up suggestively. “Going to make sure everything’s clean -no  _don’t_!” she yelps, scrambling sideways and nearly tripping again as Aradia lopes up to her with her head ducked and shoulders braced.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Aradia sneers, tossing her hair exactly the same way Vriska does, nicely subtle yet mocking.

Vriska eyes her for a moment, before relaxing and rolling her eyes. “Real cute, Megido-“

“TWO FOR FLINCHING!” Aradia screams and absolutely slams into Vriska, sending her flying.

Vriska shrieks as she goes down and you’re pretty sure you see a pluck of wool fly into the air and Jake’s mouth drops open, water dribbling straight down his chin.

“Should we… should we intervene?” he wonders.

Aradia’s winning.

“Nah,” you say.


	2. Bad Stable Manners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: centaurstuck!John + Dave; prompt: BONERS  
> ==> John Egbert POV, rated T

Summer sucks.

No, really. It does. First of all: it’s hot. Second of all: you’re black. Maybe the thing where dark colors supposedly attract the heat is a myth, but you’re pretty sure you’re melting here. At least you don’t smell like sweaty horse -your dad has this awesome homemade recipe that repels flies and other nasty bugs. Basically you smell like eucalyptus and citronella, with subtle hints of lavender and cedar. Pretty damn good, if you do say so yourself. Even though Karkat insists you smell like fancy ass toilet cleaner gone wrong. 

Whatever. 

At least you’re residing in the insect free-zone. Population: you. Also your coat is all nice and shiny. Double bonus. 

Anyway, it’s hot and you’re standing in the middle of the road like a jackass, your belly slowly being roasted by the heat waves radiating from the sun-baked earth because you’re waiting for Dave after class. Dave who is late. Where did he go, even? It’s the same damn school.

Rude.

Terezi comes trotting by, looking particularly pleased with herself. 

“Hey, Terezi!” you go, swinging your butt right into her path.

She could skip past you easy enough, but she actually deigns to stop. “Mister blueberry chocolate muffin,” she greets. Her smile widens, showing teeth. Terezi always looks like she’s knows something you don’t and today is no exception.

“So, hey, any idea where Dave is?” you flick your tail idly as you hitch a thumb over your shoulder. “Asshole was supposed to meet me here twenty minutes ago.”

“Matter of fact,” Terezi says, ”I do! He’s right over there!”

And, huh, he is. 

‘Over there’ is way ahead around the curve of the field, standing behind a bush. Dave’s not hard to miss, with is weirdass coloring, but the sun is bright and that is not at all where you agreed to meet. 

“YO DAVE!” you yell, cupping both hands around your mouth. The pale blot in the distance jerks -you think his head angles towards you. “WHAT THE HELL?”

Terezi waggles her fingers in his direction just as her mouth slides into full sharknado mode. Dave doesn’t budge an inch, not even when she makes kissy faces at him. If he can even see those, at that distance. 

“Maybe he’s shy today,” Terezi offers. You look at her. She wags her brows. Up. Down. Up. Down. You dance sideways— away. She wigs you out. Like she’s constantly plotting elaborate, yet completely random ways to kill you. “Go say hi!”

“…sure, whatever,” and that is your cue to take another step back.

“You smell delicious today, John!” With that, she finally leaves. 

Just. Eek. So much eek.

Dave’s still parked behind the bush when you trot up to him.

“Sup,” he says, bobbing his head. He flicks an ear nervously, once, twice. There’s a bite mark on his throat and his shirt is on backwards.

Yeah. Okay. 

“Dave.”

“John.”

“Why are you standing behind that bush?”

It’s like, the  _only_  bush nearby, too. You can feel yourself start to grin.

“The bush looked lonely,” Dave says, hitching a shoulder. “Looked like it needed some company.”

“Right,” you go and no, you’re totally not cracking up. Nope, not you. Wouldn’t think about it. Soul of discretion. “Aaaand you’re keeping it company by sticking your boner into it.”

Oh wow. Bingo. Dave’s face goes the approximate color of a tomato and yeah, you’re totally snickering. A lot.

“John, please, I wouldn’t dream of defiling this astounding specimen of nature by waving my huge-“

You cut him off before he can gather steam. “Sure thing, hot shot. Step out from behind that bush, then.”

He doesn’t, of course. Nobody nowhere is surprised. In fact, he’s perturbed enough his ears go back. Poker face, your ass. You’re staggering on your legs and howling with laughter, because mister ‘I am oh so cool and too ironic for you bluhbluh’ is hiding his bavarian beefstick behind a bush on a hot summer day after school with his shirt on backwards -instead of just walking it off or something. What a loser.

Twenty minutes later Dave’s still behind the bush.

You’ve actually plopped your equine rump on the gravel and are idly tossing pebbles out into the road. At least Dave’s got his shirt on right again. Must’ve been some amazing interspecies sloppy make outs.

 _Sigh_.

Sounds nice.


	3. Deerly Beloved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pi mentioned 'horse married' in one of our conversations. I HAD to.  
> ==> Karkat POV, rated T  
> ==> John POV, rated T

**== > be Karkat**

“—what if — what if he wants to get  _horse married_?”

Groans all around. Why is your whole mismatched collection of an idiot family here to witness this indignity, even? This is your love life going to absolute rotten shit —inexistent love life at that! (wow damn, let’s take a moment to fully appreciate that notion: you don’t  _have_  a love life but it is already fucked up; story of your goddamn miserable life, that).

“Karkat-“ Porrim says.

“Shut up, you don’t fucking understand! This is so fucking serious you don’t even know—“

“Actually,” Kanaya points out, “I do.”

“NO, no you fucking don’t!” you snap at her, poking a finger into her flank pointedly. “Are we pretending Rose is normal now? Normal and not absolutely batshit obsessed with tentacles and weird centaur porn in literature throughout the goddamn ages-crazy? Which totally works for her, don’t get me wrong, keep doing the thing tentacles optional and all, we’re applauding, see, look at me clap my hands, but John is… John is…”

“If you say normal I’m going to laugh,” Nepeta points out. “A lot.”

“He’s-“ you wave your hands. Everybody stares at you expectantly. Your dad is even sort of helpfully rolling his hand, like churning it through the air like a spastic lunatic might help pull the words out. “He’s an idiot,” you finish.

“Just. Kiss. Him.” Nepeta slices both hands downwards, like chopping up this utterly perplexing concept and compartmentalizing the words might make it somehow easier to digest. It doesn’t. You make a face at her.

“Worked for me,” Disciple points out from where she’s idly whittling away at a spear. “Then again your dad is kind of easy,” she blows at the tip, squints at it critically.

You make a face at your dad. He shrugs. You just, yeah: nope! Delete audiovisual input Y/Y?  _Hell yes_. 

“I can’t just kiss him, Nepeta. Like seriously: hey John your mouth needs to be on mine, let’s make it happen, cultural train wreck aside nobody’ll get hurt, hey, don’t mind the explosions, everything is only a little on fire it’s all fucking dandy? It doesn’t work that way!”

“It does actually!” she says. “Okay, so you might need to plan a little carefurry because you’re so pawfully  _short_  and need a boost because you might not be able to reach-“

“OH MY GOD SHUT UP I CAN’T DO THIS, YOU’RE ALL IDIOTS AND I CAN’T DO THIS I JUST CAN’T, IT IS A FUCKING DISASTER-“

“Karkat calm down-“

“LET GO OF ME YOU CAT LOVING TRAITOR!”

“…Signless talk to your son,” Disciple says mildly.

“I got nothing,” Signless says, giving a demonstrative full body shrug. “Maybe we should just lock them in a room and wait it out?”

Disciple puts down the spear. “Honey, no.”

“I don’t know, sounds like a pretty solid plan to me.”

“No.”

“…fine.”

 

 

**== > be John**

“Jade, Jade, you don’t understand, he’s with Gamzee and I know they have that thing where they, y’know, but I don’t-”

“… the thing where they what now?”

“With lots of people!” You tell her and try not to think of Dave. And Terezi. And Jade. Jade who you are  _talking_  to and doesn’t understand because she’s right in the middle of the thing! (wow seriously there’s like eighteen limbs involved how does that even—nooooo, bad brain stop) “I don’t have that thing with lots of people!” you add for good measure, in case it wasn’t clear.

 No sharing.

But.  _Cultural sensitivity_. 

Why are you thinking about this, you don’t even know if he like…  _like_  likes you back or whatever.

“Oh my god, John!” Jade says and careens her big black butt into your side so you stumble and nearly roll into a ditch. “You are so dumb! Like literally the dumbest ever. The most dumb, John. You are so dumb that if I look up dumb in a dictionary it’d have a picture of you, just like this, being dumb. That’s how dumb you are, John. The dumbest.” 

“Dude,” you go, a little hurt.

Jade reaches out a hand to pull you up and you glare at it pointedly for a whole second before taking it. Jade braces all four legs and hauls you to your hooves. Your buttocks are covered in grime. Great. This is stupid. He’s with Gamzee. He’s been with Gamzee since they were, like,  _kids_  (don’t think about it John, cultural sensitivity is key John, don’t be a butt about it John if you do you’ll wake up one night with Kankri standing over you and he’ll be talking and it’ll be awful so don’t be a butt about it —ffff _ffFFF_  since they were  _kids_  how does that even work cervitaurs are so weird! SO WEIRD!). There’s like, no chance ever he’ll dump him for you. No wait, he wouldn’t even dump him, would he? Instead he would, er, add you to the collection, probably —and then your mouth will be where Gamzee’s has—  _aaaaaah stop thinking about it, John_.

Seriously. You’re reading too much into it. He was just… he was just grateful. Just being nice for once and saying thank you. You kinda saved his life and it was all very scary and you’d carried him on your back for hours and both of you were tired and you could have died out there —it’s nothing, probably, he was just grateful (the soft slide of his cheek against yours and his hands pulling at your hair so hard it hurt and his breath against the corner of your mouth hot and sultry).

Nudge.

You blink.

Jade’s clear green eyes bore into yours and her expression is set to ‘ _so done with you John Egbert_ ’, but then it softens at the edges, like she sees something in your face that makes her all go…

“Oh, John,” Jade sighs and pulls you in for a hug. She’s tall enough your nose sort of bonks into her chin and ouch, but she’s already letting go again. Puts a fist on her hip instead and wags the other into your face. “John,  _John_ , listen to me, John he’s so into you, okay, even Dave noticed and he suffers from chronic emotional constipation, John!  _John_ … John, even Jake can tell!  _Jake_ , John! How are you not getting this—“

You think of Karkat’s angry face and his cute white spots and shoulder freckles and nubby antlers and  _oooooh_  man you like him so,  _so_  much. It stopped being fun. Urgh. And Jade’s not getting the picture here, either!

“Yeah, but, Jade… is it for real for real? Like, does he  _like_  like me like that, even, or just like-“

“JOHN.”


End file.
